


Drawn To You

by CecilWolford



Category: Sleepy Hollow (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Biting, Brom Lives, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Love Bites, M/M, Magic, Mild Blood, Mpreg, No Smut, but i barely know any german, don't like mpreg? too bad, eventually, hopefully a good ending, i don't know right now, i feel like a dick, i know the hessian is german, sorry - Freeform, the mpreg will be explained later in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CecilWolford/pseuds/CecilWolford
Summary: After ridding Sleepy Hollow of The Hessian, Ichabod Crane returns to his home back in New York, where he plans to stay and continue to work. But little does he know, he's been drawn into something he can't back out of; Something that he was drawn into the very night he returned the horseman's head to its rightful owner.





	1. A Message

**Author's Note:**

> I (sadly) don't own Sleepy Hollow in any way, shape, or form. If I did, I'd probably be going to hell as I write this.

The sky was dark and the weather was frightful. Ichabod Crane had just finished another night of work and was heading back home to his New York apartment, where he'd look over his writings from the day and connect clues that would allow him to solve the case at hand. Of course, there was no case at the moment, so all he had to show for his work were a few reports on theft and public intoxication.

With a sigh, Ichabod pushed open the front door to the front room, where the landlord, Clarence Brown, sat behind a large desk looking through papers. When he heard the door open, he quickly looked up and squinted; He was an older man of 53, who's vision was already failing him.

"Is that you, Constable Crane?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.

"The one and only, good sir."

The landlord gave the young man a fond smile and sat the papers in his hands down in front of him. "I haven't seen you quite some time. I've been on vacation, as you know."

Ichabod nodded his head and waited patiently for the man to continue, which he did. "But apparently, you've got some new neighbors upstairs."

"Indeed, I do. A single mother with two children and another one on the way," Ichabod replied. "She's a very nice woman."

Brown nodded his head. "But she isn't the only one now."

"Pardon?"

"Just this evening, a fellow came in demanding a room," Brown explained. "He slammed more money than I could count on the desk, I handed him the key to the room next to yours, and I haven't seen him since."

Ichabod frowned, but said nothing more than a quiet 'Have a good evening' before heading upstairs, his briefcase held tightly in his hand.

~~~

Ichabod pushed open his apartment door and quickly shut it behind him, locking it as well. He sat hid briefcase down and unbuttoned his overcoat, which he quickly threw off and put on the back of the couch. He was quick to undo his vest as well and let out a low groan when he was finally released from the constricting layers of clothing. You would've thought that he'd grown accustom to the clothing, but no. They were just as annoying as ever and with the kind of weather they were having that year, it made Ichabod hate his superiors more than he had when they'd sent him to Sleepy Hollow, hoping to get rid of him.

He undid the first three buttons on his shirt and sat down in the chair in front of the small fireplace, where he thought of the past year: He'd been sent to a town barely anyone knew about; he'd gotten into an argument (if that's what you'd like to call it) on his first evening there; he'd fallen in love only to be forced to forget about her, and he returned a head to a headless ghost.

The sudden thought of the Hessian provoked something deep down inside of Ichabod, which made his face heat up and his heart rate quicken, casing his heart to drum against his rib cage. He'd replayed that night in his mind multiple times, and every time, he focused on the Hessian more and more. Those icy blue eyes that had sent shivers down his spine when he first saw them, those sharply filed teeth that filled Ichabod with fear but at the same time wonder, and the shaggy hair that was no better than his own unruly hair. He remembered what had happened as soon as the skull was placed in its rightful place, and he shivered in slight disgust.

But he was suddenly pulled out of his own little world when there was a harsh knock on his door. He was quick to button up his shirt before standing up and walking over to the wooden door that squeaked every time you even barely touched it.

"Who is it?" Ichabod asked, hesitantly grabbing the doorknob in his shaking hand.

"Constable Crane? It's Young Masbath, from Sleepy Hollow," a familiar voice replied. "I've come with a message from Katrina Van Tassel."

Ichabod pulled the door open and in front of him, was the boy who had only one year ago claimed that he would avenge his father after his death. Masbath had grown a good amount in the past year and now he stood eye to eye with Ichabod.

"Young Masbath," Ichabod breathed out in shock. "I-I wasn't expecting to see you here in New York."

The younger male grinned. "I wasn't planning on coming to New York, but there's some urgent news that Miss Katrina trusted no one but me to deliver to you." The boy held out a letter with the Van Tassel seal, unbroken.

"You-... You have not read the letter," Ichabod said in slight disbelief. "But, that much is expected from a well-brought up boy of your kind."

Young Masbath nodded his head. "Not just that, sir, but I don't need to read the letter to know why Miss Katrina has written it."

"You don't?"

"No, sir, for I have witnessed exactly what caused her to write to you."

At that point, Ichabod broke the Van Tassel seal and opened the letter. He read through it, becoming more worried about the town and its residents with each line. At the end, he looked up from the letter, nothing but pure fear and shock in his eyes.


	2. Trouble

In a flash, Ichabod had left the letter on the coffee table in front of the couch and had put his vest and overcoat back on. He turned back to Young Masbath as he was fiddling with the last two buttons on his coat.

"Is the coach that you came in still outside?"

Young Masbath nodded his head. "Aye sir. Mister Van Brunt and Miss Katrina had a hunch that you'd return to Sleepy Hollow after reading the letter."

"And they were right to think that. Young Masbath, would you help me with my things?"

Young Masbath nodded his head again and helped the older man with his belongings that he planned to take to Sleepy Hollow. While they did this, Ichabod was quick to ask questions and Young Masbath was even quicker to answer them:

"Has anyone been murdered so far?"

"No. Though there have been cases of missing children."

Ichabod drew his attention from his books. "Children?"

"Yes. Three children have gone missing in the past week, and no one has been able to find them and no man will venture into the woods," Masbath explained.

Ichabod felt a lump form in his throat. "W-What are the age ranges?"

Young Masbath thought for a moment before replying, "Two young boys, three and five, and a young girl at the age of seven."

"D-Do the locals believe it's the... The H-Hessian taking them?" Ichabod asked, hoping his voice wasn't wavering as much as he thought it was.

"Of course. Everyone believes that it's his horse who lures them into the woods so that he may take them."

The constable slowly placed the last of his books into his case before shutting it. "Is there-... Is there a-anything else?"

"The Hessian rides into town at night, but he doesn't try to attack anyone. He circles the Van Tassel household until the sun begins to rise, then he rides back into the woods until the sun disappears from the sky once more."

Ichabod breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He picked up his suitcases and he and Yong Masbath headed out the door, down the stairs, and out the front of the building. Ichabod had briefly stopped to say his goodbyes once again to Brown at the front desk, before he continued out to the carriage where Young Masbath was waiting for him. Ichabod slid into the coach first and Young Masbath followed close behind, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat across from the constable.

~~~

The ride to Sleepy Hollow was silent for the most part. Of course, there was the howling of wolves ever once in a while, but they always sounded far away and gave Ichabod and Young Masbath no reason to worry about being torn to shreds by the animals. For most of the ride, Ichabod had focused on reading and jotting down notes on what Young Masbath had told him about happenings at Sleepy Hollow.

"Young Masbath, what do  _you_ believe caused the Hessian to return?" Ichabod asked the question that he been bothering him from the beginning.

"I'm not sure sir," Young Masbath replied. "There are many reasons I can come up with."

"Well what's the one reason that sticks out among the rest?" Ichabod sighed as he impatiently tapped his fingers on his journal.

Young Masbath looked out of the coach window while replying, "I believe-... I believe he's back because of you."

Ichabod nearly scratched through the paper with his quill. "M-Me? What in the world would he want with me?"

"I do not know sir, but it may have something to do with you being the one who returned his head to him," Young Masbath replied, never looking away from the window. Ichabod was speechless; He didn't say a word as he put his quill back in his bag and slid his journal in next to it. Instead, he snapped his bag shut and stared out the window as well, trying to come up with some logical explanation as to why the Hessian would be after him.

~~~

He could recall closing his eyes as the moon rose in the night sky, and he could also recall Young Masbath wishing him a goodnight before dozing off himself. But it was only a few mere seconds of somewhat peaceful sleep, before there was the sound of screaming and the fierce snapping of reins from outside the coach woke them both.

Young Masbath clung tightly to the back of his seat as the coach wildly rocked back and forth as the coachman continued to snap the reins and the horses galloped down the road. Ichabod grunted as he was slammed into the left door when the coach was suddenly shoved to the side.

"What in heavens name is going on!?" Ichabod shouted, as he struggled to keep himself from slamming back into the doors.

"I-It could be bandits; They cover most of the roads to Sleepy Hollow," Young Masbath replied and yelped when he was thrown back against his seat by the coach suddenly lurching forward.

Ichabod looked to the window and sharply drew in a breath when he saw an unfamiliar face; Young Masbath was right. Reaching into his coat pocket, Ichabod drew his pistol and held it tightly in his hand. The bandit sneered at him before facing forward and snapping the reins on his horse.

"Young Masbath," Ichabod looked over at the boy, "If something happens, I want you to run away as fast as you can. Don't stop until you either reach Sleepy Hollow or the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own breathing."

Young Masbath hesitantly nodded his head and they both gasped as the coach lurched to a stop and they were both thrown into Ichabod's seat. They listened to the sound of shouting and shoes scraping on the gravel outside. It all suddenly stopped and Ichabod quickly stood up. He reached forward and grabbed onto the left door handle, holding the door closed.

"Young Masbath-"

"I've got it sir." The boy copied the man's actions and held the right door shut.

Ichabod gasped when the door handle started shaking under his hand and he cringed when shouting erupted from outside once more.

" _They're holdin' onto the door!_ "

" _Then shoot the damn handle, you bloody idiot!_ "

A shot rang out and Ichabod flew back from the door and raised his pistol, putting his finger just above the trigger. The door swung open and Ichabod fired a shot at the bandit, who quickly moved to the side and escaped the bullet.

"Young Masbath, go!" Ichabod shouted, firing another shot.

Young Masbath swung the door open and took off, running as fast as his legs could go. He could hear the bandits hollering behind him and guns going off, but he didn't turn back, the constable had told him to run and he would not disobey the first person to treat him as if he wasn't a child since his father's death. He had to get back to Sleepy Hollow; Katrina and Brom would know what to do. He could only pray that he'd make it to the town on time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, I've had a lot of school work recently ;-; But I have a question: Do you guys prefer shorter chapters with less time between them, or longer chapters with maybe a week between them?


	3. Struggle to Ecsape

Ichabod grunted as he was slammed into the side of the coach with a hand tightly wrapped around his neck. His pistol had been knocked out of his hand and thrown out into the field of tall grass on the side of the road, so he had no other way to defend himself. He desperately wanted to know who these men worked for and why they were doing this, but every time he opened his mouth, he'd double over in pain from a punch in the gut from the man in front of him.

"Listen here," the man growled, "you keep your pie hole shut while we do our job, and maybe-"

"Maybe you'll get out alive!" the three other men bellowed from the other side of the coach where loud cackling soon followed.

Ichabod gulped and the bandit must've finally seen the fear and realization in his eyes, because he gave the constable a malicious grin and let his hand drop from his throat to his shirt collar.

"You know, you seem a bit too fragile for a man..." he slowly began, then shouted to his men, "what do you think, fellas?"

A chorus of what Ichabod could only assume where shouts of agreement sounded from the other side of the coach and the man's grin grew wider.

"I think that we have a fake on our hands!"

Ichabod's jaw tightened and rage boiled deep down inside of him. "Excuse me! I am no "fake". I am Constable Ichabod Crane from New York and I demand that you let me go this instant before I have you thrown in jail!"

The men in the back let out clearly fake whimpers and pleas.

"Please don't throw us in jail, constable!"

"We won't last a day!"

"How cruel!"

And then the laughter started once again, annoying Ichabod and giving him a headache.

In a fit of blind rage, Ichabod balled his hand into a fist and socked the bandit in the left side of his face, surprising him and throwing him off balance. As soon as the grip on his shirt loosened, Ichabod shoved the man away and took off down the road. He fought the urge to look back when he heard the men shouting behind him, for he knew that if he did, he was sure to trip and fall, giving the bandits a for-sure chance of catching him once again. Hearing the sound of horses charging towards him, he remembered that he had lost his gun in the fight and had nothing to protect himself with if he were caught again, other than a small dagger he kept tucked in the side of his boot. Then he thought about what would happen if he actually was caught; it would be useless to even try and pull the dagger on them and he doubted that they'd go easy on him, and if he got out alive, he would surely have enough scars on his body to last him a lifetime.

"Get the hell back here, you bastard!" One of the men shouted.

Ichabod would've chuckled at how close the man was to describing him in one word, but he was too busy running for his life to spare a moment of humor. His eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, trying to find any sign that showed he was getting closer to the town. Narrowing his eyes and looking in the distance, he saw the old, burned cottage that Katrina had shown him the year before and he was filled with a sense of relief. If he was already that close, Young Masbath must've made it to town by now.

Suddenly, Ichabod was grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground, and he cried out in pain as his arms were roughly pinned behind his back and he felt his left wrist snap.

"That wasn't a very smart thing to do,  _constable,_ " the man hissed in his ear, sending a shiver of disgust and fear down his spine. He squirmed side to side in the man's grip and grunted as his hair was pulled and his face was slammed into the ground.

"Aaron, calm down; it's not like he's going anywhere," another man sighed, riding up to the two men. He looked down and smirked at Ichabod. "We'll all make sure of that."

Ichabod gulped and squirmed again, but that only resulted in his head being slammed onto the ground yet again. He groaned in pain and shut his eyes tight as his headache quickly became a migraine. Seemingly out of nowhere, the men began screaming; not the deep yelling, but the the throat-rawing screaming that could easily be mistaken for a woman's. Ichabod kept his eyes shut tight out of fear for what he might see if he opened them and looked around.

There was the familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed and the young man felt a lump forming in his throat, and he loudly gulped to remove it. The hands holding him down were suddenly gone and he quickly pulled his arms out from behind his back and held the left one close to his chest, fearing that his wrist was broken. The men's screams were all cut short and Ichabod flinched when he heard the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Their heads. Whoever else was there had just decapitated the bandits within the span of a few seconds.

Slowly opening his eyes, Ichabod looked around and his eyes widened when he saw the bloody scene and the very culprit who had created it; The Hessian. He was standing beside the one living bandit, the leader, with his back to Ichabod and his sword still held tightly in his hand. Reaching down, he grabbed the bandit by his hair and pulled him up to his knees. Whispering something into the man's ear, the Hessian brought his sword up and then quickly swung it down on the back of the man's neck, decapitating him just like the others. Ichabod desperately wanted to look away, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the brooding figure who stood there, silent as ever. He showed no signs of moving, until he whirled around to face the constable who quickly sat up and began moving backwards until he was sure that there was enough distance between them and he stood up, beginning to run. He ran past the now horseless coach and continued running up towards the road that would take him to Sleepy Hollow. 

As he ran, however, he could hear the sound of hoofs beating against the ground not too far behind; The Hessian was coming after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever! I've been busy with school and with the 8th grade D.C. trip coming up tomorrow, I haven't had a lot of time for my stories! I would've liked this chapter to be longer, but then I realized that I need to save some stuff for later chapters.  
> If I can get enough free time some time this week in D.C., I'll see if I can get another chapter up for you guys!


End file.
